Float like a Butterfly, Bite like a Flea

I used to think every great epiphany I had was something swell to yell from the mountaintops. I’m getting over it now and it’s embarrassing when I see other folks doing it. It’s even more complicated considering messages like these sound awfully close to the thing I just claimed I’ve stopped doing.

It’s not bad to share ideas. It’s not even bad to give instruction but everyone’s an instructor these days. Once again, ye olde Internet rears its ugly head. Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man learned the hard way that with great power comes great responsibility.

I’m still doing it, though. This is a long form shut up. I can’t Riders of Rohan myself into every argument, yet we might as well argue the constellations. I’m not better than you, I’m fucking tired.

This is what the Internet does to us. Everyone has to weigh in. Oh, recently I’ve seen a couple of people, just a couple, say “I honestly know absolutely nothing about this.” If I were a sculptor. How wondrous!

I don’t want to nihilism everyone into hushing, but maybe I do.

Hell, the path to enlightenment could turn out to be long Facebook rants about the description of a John Oliver video that you didn’t even watch. I doubt it, but what the fuck do I know?

I’d rather write shitty poetry or a short story no one will ever read. At least there’s the odd one-in-a-million chance that it’s an original thought. Anything else sounds like seagulls. Dank memes and whining machines.